


Discovering Chaos

by divinecrone



Series: A Path Less Travelled [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cosmic Entities, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Not Thor: The Dark World (Movie) Compliant, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Multiple, Time Travel, post-Captain America: Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-02-02 06:38:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12721524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/divinecrone/pseuds/divinecrone
Summary: Extras scenes forBreeding Chaos, part ofA Path Less Travelledseries.All chapters are separate, unless stated otherwise. Notes at the beginning of each chapter will tell you where it fits into the main story. Extras will not always be posted in chronological order.Please be aware that there may be spoilers in the extras, so proceed accordingly.





	1. 1. It’s Alive!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A vignette with 1G0-R. Tony and Bruce walk in on 1G0-R in the middle of his own little Frankenstein project.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This happens some time after the end of Chapter 5 where Bruce teases Tony, saying that he’s waiting for him to name one of his bots Igor.
> 
> The wait is over…

1G0-R welded another piece of metal to the chassis in front of him. _Soon, soon, my creation will be complete! And she shall be glorious!_

•••••

JARVIS kept a careful eye on 1G0-R in the corner of Tony’s lab. While he’d been given access to the welder and a few other tools as a reward for good behavior, JARVIS was a little concerned about the tone of 1G0-R’s beeps. He didn't have an exact translation, the last electrical accident had scrambled his communication protocols (again), but if JARVIS had to classify the beeps, he’d be hard-pressed to choose any adjective but manic or maniacal.

He sent a reminder to 1G0-R that the Mechanic–as most of the younger bots called Sir–was due back in his lab soon, but was uncertain whether or not the message was received. Not that 1G0-R wouldn’t outright ignore inconvenient directives. If he weren’t so adapt at surviving Sir’s experiments and containing the various messes in the lab, he’d have been reassigned years ago. Not that they hadn’t tried a few times. No other cleaner bot had survived even half as long in Sir’s lab as 1G0-R, but it had made him a bit… peculiar. Sir was insistent that 1G0-R being activated on October 31st during an electrical storm had nothing whatsoever to do with the quirks in his personality, but after years of observation, JARVIS was skeptical, at best.

JARVIS sent a more urgent alert to 1G0-R when Sir requested the elevator take him and Dr Banner to his lab. Sir had recently requested that Dr Banner not meet 1G0-R after somehow missing his existence since he was recovered from the Malibu lab and installed at the tower. While JARVIS did not believe in coincidence, he could have told Sir, if asked, that the likelihood of Dr Banner suddenly meeting 1G0-R, especially in less than ideal circumstances, increased exponentially as soon as Sir expressed a desire that it should never happen.

DUM-E attempted to prod 1G0-R into hiding, but ended up dodging the welding torch instead. JARVIS made a note that 1G0-R was back to only using ‘dangerous’ tools with supervision and advised Sir that he may wish to go to Dr Banner’s lab instead. He received a text back to ‘send home the party or order more food’. Obviously, Sir was not in the mood to be subtly reminded or dissuaded and his latest protocols explicitly stated that he was not to mention 1G0-R where Bruce might notice.

JARVIS gave a mental shrug and ran a quick diagnostic on all of the video and audio systems in the lab. Even if Sir didn't want to rewatch the events about to unfold, Miss Potts would definitely enjoy the show.

‘–no, that could work if you recombine the… Is something burning?’

‘Damn it! DUM-E where are you, you bucket of bolts?’ A sullen beep came from the corner. ‘DUM-E, what–’ Tony growled. ‘J, what happened to dum-dum, here?’

‘Tony! What’s this?’ Tony froze, possibly sensing impending doom.

‘It’s his lab day, isn’t it, J?’

‘Yes, Sir.’

‘And you couldn’t say anything because…?’

‘The protocols, Sir.’

‘Right. _Shit_.’

‘B-r-dash-1-d-dash-3. Is this bot named ‘bride’? And who is…’ Tony closed his eyes as shuffling and angry beeps could be heard on the other side of the room. ‘1-g-0-dash-r. Ow!’

1G0-R screamed not unlike R2-D2 as he streaked across the lab away from Bruce. Tony looked down to see 1G0-R circling him, beeping frantically. ‘What’s he saying, J? I can’t quite catch that.’

‘He has overloaded his connection ports and scrambled his communication protocols, again, so I’m not certain, either. If I had to guess, I would say that he is displeased at the interruption as he was nearing completion. By my calculations, BR-1D-3 is ready to be activated. Although, I am unsure how 1G0-R plans to ‘jump start’ her systems, as it were.’

‘Jump start?! Bruce don’t touch–’ Tony spun around, but it was too late. Hulk came out as soon as the electrical surge started, roaring his displeasure. 1G0-R beep and screamed back across the lab to place himself between Hulk and the twitching BR-1D-3.

‘Oh, sweet Science. My lab has become a noir horror film. All we’re missing is–’ Tony made a startled noise and rubbed his eyes before looking again. _Yes, my vacuum has been modified and renamed “W00-LPH-M4N”_. The vacuum turned itself on, ‘howling’ as it sped toward the confrontation between 1G0-R and Hulk. Tony stared with wide, disbelieving eyes. ‘J, if I’m not having a hallucination, make sure 1G0-R’s tool privileges are revoked. In fact, I don’t care if this is a hallucination, revoke his tool privileges immediately and have the loyal cleaner bots do a sweep for any hidden tool caches.’ Tony rubbed a hand over his mouth. ‘I can’t believe I just said that.’

‘Done, Sir. I have also flagged a video of this event to play in the event that you second guess this decision, again.’

Tony glared at the closest camera as he went to break up the love triangle forming between the bots. ‘Unnecessary roughness, J.’ _At least Hulk isn’t smashing. Oh hell, he thinks this is_ entertainment _. What are the odds I can break this up without getting smashed or dealing with a sulking Hulk for weeks?_ Tony sighed and detoured for the microwave. _May as well make popcorn_.

•••••

A few hours later…

‘Sir, Dr Banner is attempting to reach you.’

Tony ignored the indignant beep from 1G0-R as he put down the pliers. ‘Shush you. You did it to yourself. You can wait a few minutes for me to talk to Brucie-bear. Put him through, J.’

Bruce appeared over the holographic table as Tony turned around. ‘Tony, is everything okay? My pants are shredded, but I woke up on the couch? The last thing I remember is going to your lab to grab some equipment.’ He rubbed both hands over his face. ‘And Hulk doesn’t seem upset. He keeps saying something about bots in a play. And I had the strangest dream…’ Bruce trailed off as he noticed 1G0-R waving a claw on the table behind Tony.

Tony grinned sheepishly. ‘Yeah, about that…’ He trailed off, not sure how to continue.

Bruce opened and closed his mouth a few times, obviously discarding several responses before settling on: ‘So, was W00-LPH-M4N’s bid for love successful or did the BR-1D-3 perish most tragically?’

‘And that, Brucie-bear, is why you’re my favorite.’

‘I’m still not coming back down to your lab.’ Bruce winced. ‘But the Hulk might visit for more plays.’


	2. 2. Swimming With The Fishes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This snippet was inspired by Loptr’s comment about Bob in Chapter 6 of _Breeding Chaos_ : “Sometimes, I wonder about his reading habits, but I’m not going to try swimming after him to get his e-reader away from him. (Not after the last time.)”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn’t resist using that idiom as the title for this chapter. Very tongue in cheek.
> 
> Loptr and Bob fight over her e-reader. Bob is a recently converted bibliophile and is not giving up his newest treasure, even if it was stolen. Honestly, that might be the best part of treasure: claiming it from someone else.
> 
> Please keep in mind that both Bob and Loptr are still young for their respective species (mid-teen years) and prone to the occasional immature response or outburst.
> 
>  **Trigger Warning:** If you’re squeamish about odd foods, skip the paragraph toward the end bracketed in asterisks (***). Paragraph can be summed up as: Loptr has an aquatic snack and leaves an offering for the Sea Goddess.

 

Loptr’s growl of frustration translated into sonic warbles and flashing lights along the length of her body. Sinuous and powerful in this morphed shape, reminiscent of Midgardian mermaids, she still wasn’t fast enough to outpace Bob, even if she could easily slip between his tentacles. Webbing between her digits gripped the water as she twisted away from Bob’s retreating form to settle on an outcropping of coral.

She contemplated the dissipating streams of bubbles that had been left in the wake of their chase. _Móðir would have called it sulking_. Loptr pushed that thought away, grateful that this form couldn’t cry.

The e-reader had been one of her first acquisitions upon coming to Midgard, an endless treasure of information and fanciful escape. There were currently a dozen unread books, recently downloaded, that she had been looking forward to indulging in after their latest excursion to search for the hidden Chitauri colony deep in the Atlantic, but Bob’s curiosity had been faster than her vigilance.

Obviously speed was not going to be enough. She couldn’t find her e-reader in the mass of tentacles fast enough to grab it before Bob swam off with his prize. Lights swirled in a hypnotizing spiral up her tail and arms as she pounded a fist on the coral. It was easily replaced, the books could be sent to the new device, nothing lost other than a little time and a negligible amount of coin, but it was the _principle_ of the matter. _Out swum and out maneuvered by overgrown calamari. Oh, the shame_.

The bioluminescent markings dimmed to soft purple as she planned her final attack. If this attempt to retrieve her e-reader wasn’t successful, she’d have to write it off as part of Bob’s treasure and order another ( _admit defeat_ ). Móðir had instituted the three strikes rule in their first decade together, after Loptr and Bob spent a week fighting over a particularly appealing seashell. Brilliant teal with dark ochre stripes, it had been as unique as the two combatants determined to keep it for themselves. Now, the conch held pride-of-place, displayed on a pedestal in the main entrance to Loptr’s secret room and Bob’s aquarium. It was as close to openly sharing an item as they got.

Rows of serrated teeth glittered in a wide smile as a new plan presented itself. **_Fight fire with fire_** , as experts liked to say. Tail and fins split into tentacles, and her torso reshaped into the bulbous head of an octopus as she slid off the coral. Her skin shifted colors until she all but disappeared in the water.

It took nearly an hour of swimming to locate Bob in one of the nooks he tended to avoid. Obviously, he wasn’t above stacking the odds to have these three strikes fall in his favor. Loptr twisted the bare amount needed to drift with the current twining through Bob’s tentacles. Several futile passes later, she was forced to concede that a passive search ‘ ** _just wasn’t going to cut it_** ’, as FRIDAY liked to say. One large eye blinked in her direction and Loptr fought not to throw something at Bob’s smug ‘face’. A century ago, she’d have lost the battle and lost the prize. Slowly, but surely, she was learning the value of situational restraint. _Order would be so proud_. She pushed the thought of _another_ someone left behind away and hid in one of the connecting tubes.

Quickly, she swam around to come back in at the far side of the zone in which Bob was currently ensconced. One furtive slide down the wall later, and she was well-hidden in the kelp bed. Wriggling through the kelp was an exercise in patience. It helped that this was a hunt to regain treasure, but it vexed her to move so careful and slow. Soon enough she was shifting between massive tentacles, mimicking the movement of the kelp.

A glimmer of artificial light finally caught her eye, mere meters away from Bob’s beak. Danger signals lit up her consciousness as she thought about dashing forward to claim her prize. Loptr pushed her torso out of the octopus form, there was too much instinctual aversion in a fully shifted form to make such a risky play. Bob‘s tentacles stirred the water around her, likely tasting the minute change. She counted thirteen slow, deep breathes before the behemoth resettled.

Her hands were a moment away from contact ( _victory_ ) when a black cloud of ink blasted her into the kelp bed and Bob escaped. Incandescent fury boiled through her as she shifted into her preferred aquatic form and laid waste to the kelp. By the time she way done venting her rage on the unoccupied kelp, the water was dark with silt and shredded plants. Gills edged in crimson heaved as she slowly swam toward the surface. The denizens of Bob’s realm gave her a wide berth as she swam by, trailing a literal black cloud. _He inked me! I can’t believe the bastard_ inked _me! He knows it takes me_ days _of constantly shifting forms to get rid of the stain. He so_ owes _me a new shiny for this_.

*** She snatched a fish that wasn’t fast or wary enough as she entered the upper reaches. The cold meat was refreshing after hours of ‘battling’ Bob. She used the tail fins to scrape the worst of the ink away, then arranged the remains on a nearby altar. The littlest denizens would feast on what was left and take anything they could use, but leave the bones. Those would become part of the ever changing altar in honor of the Sea Goddess. ***

Loptr stumbled as she traded her tail and fins for legs. The first gasp of air was sweet, tropical flowers scenting the humid air. Hanging vines flexed lazily, supporting Loptr as she moved through them. Like most things in Loptr’s room they were deceptively docile in her presence. She petted a poison bloom as she stepped out of the vines, still hip deep in the water. Stray drops of red dotted the rocks as she climbed to a higher pool. The waterfall would sting on her many small cuts, but combined with soap and several shifts, it would remove the vast majority of the ink.

She was placing the sea sponge back in its holder when the first violet and teal tentacle brushed against her arm. She side stepped and bumped into another, which she swatted away. They drooped dejectedly before coming back to prod again.

‘No. You _inked_ me, you insensitive jerk! We swam for _hours_ looking for the colony and then you _stole_ my e-reader with my _new books_. I’m not talking to you right now.’

Water splashed her in the face as the tentacles retreated. Loptr screamed inarticulately after her friend. Muddy blues at the edge of her consciousness made her wince. _Okay, that last bit might have been going too far_. She sighed and sent back a burst of soft colors underscored with a sour yellow. She was still upset, after all.  
  
Pinks and greens swirled back. Bob’s excitement at being forgiven with an apology for upsetting his friend mixed in. She sighed and bounced her head on the lava rock. _Terror of the deep, my foot. More like overgrown puppy, maybe a friendly feline_.

She yelped as violet and teal surrounded her. Looked like Bob had gotten impatient with her stalling. She was wrapped up, gently but firmly, and pulled out of the waterfall back down to the lower level. Loptr found herself perched on Bob’s mantle as he projected bits and pieces of his reading to her. She smiled and sent a message for FRIDAY to order another e-reader for her as well as a few spares. She’d probably be mad again when she went out and someone commented on the bits of ink still staining her skin, but for now, it was wonderful to sit and share the amazing world of books with her dear friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update: a couple spelling errors were fixed. Let me know if you see any others.
> 
> I’m taking a break from the numbers (work) to post, so words are still looking a bit odd right now.


	3. 3. Goodnight Laura

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint calls Laura right after Chapter 3 of _Breeding Chaos_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This happens right after Chapter 3 of _Breeding Chaos_ (before the twist in Clint’s backstory is revealed in Chapter 7), so it’s just a short bit of fluff.
> 
> Title Song: _Goodnight Laura_ by Spoon

‘Hello?’

Laura’s voice rushed over him, bringing sunlight and peace into his hideaway. Clint indulged in the sappy smile he rarely had the luxury of wearing. But here, in his nest, it was as safe as he’d ever be.

‘How’s my baby mama today?’

‘Ugh,’ she huffed in absolute disgust mingled with hints of fondness. ‘You would not ask me that if you knew what your children did today.’

Clint bit back a chuckle. ‘Well, you’d better tell me quick, so I can be equally appalled and amazed.’

‘Well, it all started with the purple cow.’

‘Wait. _Purple_ cow?’

Her eye roll could be heard, loud and clear even over the phone. ‘Yes, Clinton, the purple cow. We talked about what they did to Bessie last week. Don’t tell me getting shot at distracted you from the details.’

Clint winced. _Oh, right. Calling while dodging pursuit hadn’t been one of his better ideas, but he really hadn’t wanted to miss the kids’ bedtime again and ‘dad calling home’ had been a great way to blend until he was out of the danger zone_. ‘Sorry, my love. Okay, yes, the purple cow, Bitsy–’

‘Bessie. As if we’d name a cow after Tetka Tasha. Even if the kids said it was their idea, she’d still blame you for encouraging them.’

She snorted when he just chuckled. ‘So tell me what they did to or with Bessie?’

‘Well…’ Clint slumped back in his favorite bean bag chair and let the retelling of their children’s antics wash over him. _At least they didn’t have a potato gun, this time_. He pulled out the patchwork quilt he’d smuggled out of the farmhouse and into the tower, soaking up the love that went into every stitch. It represented a depressingly small piece of home when he was stuck elsewhere. _Not to say I don’t love being part of the Avengers, but I’m not sure how much longer I want to keep doing this. We’ve got something big headed for all of us right now, but after that…? How many more moments with my family am I willing to miss?_

‘…And then the dinosaurs attacked and pandemonium ensued.’

‘Um… What?’ Clint sat up as he tried to figure out where he lost the narrative. ‘When was there a dinosaur attack? You’d think we’d have been sent out for that.’

Laura clicked her tongue. ‘Clint, in what world do dinosaurs attack middle school marching bands?’

‘Uh... I swear we had something like that happen a couple months back.’

She snorted. ‘I forgot who I was talking to for a moment. Let me rephrase: in what normal–meaning non-superhero comic book fantasy–world do dinosaurs attack a rural mid-western school?’

‘I’m guessing not this one?’

‘Hopeless. Com-plete-ly hopeless. You’re lucky we love you so much.’

‘Yes. Yes, I am.’ Clint smiled as Laura huffed before letting him off the hook. The marching band drama minus dinosaur attack was kind of hilarious. Apparently, several different group decided to pull off pranks the same night. A mountain of soap bubbles combined with glitter and paint bombs left everyone from the band to the audience looking ‘fabulous’. Laura still wasn’t sure which group Cooper and Lila had been part of, but at this point almost half the student body was involved, so it was rather a moot point. Then again, he hadn’t been stuck on cleanup duty or attending the parent-teacher conference.

‘Hey–’

‘Hay is for horses,’ she quipped.

‘What do you say to taking the kids back to Disney World this summer? We’ll book you a spa day while I take them on all the roller coasters. Cooper was too small for some of them last time. Tash & I can trade off on the kiddie rides for Lila. What do you say? Last vacation before we’ve got to carry a diaper bag again.’

‘Cooper went on all the roller coasters last time...’ A gust of chill wind twisted down the back of his neck. _But, I remember… must have been the trip before. Or maybe he went for a school thing? Didn’t he go on a weekend field trip a little while back?_ ‘Right, right, sorry. Doesn’t mean he won’t like to ride them all again.’

‘There is that. Do you really think you can the time off for a family vacation. The both of you? I saw the news with Iron Man’s ‘daughter’ getting hurt. Is she okay?’ Laura paused. ‘ _Is she_ , his daughter, I mean?’

‘Jury’s out right now. You were on one of the task forces assigned to Stark watching way back when. You know he was always careful like that.’

‘Uh-huh. And you all live the superhero comic book lifestyle. There’s time travel, parallel universes, multiverses, clones, and all sorts of things that could have happened. He didn’t necessarily have to participate to have a kid.’

Clint winced. ‘Okay. You kind of have a point, but I’m gonna wait for confirmation before I start panicking. JARVIS said she’ll pull through, so everything is peachy.’

‘Sure thing, Arms.’

‘Well, I’m not just a pretty face.’

‘There _is_ plenty of handsome scenery. That’s for sure.’

‘Are you saying you just keep me around for my studly physique? I’m hurt, buttercup. I feel so used.’

‘And ashamed, I’m sure.’

‘Of you? Never, snookums.’

‘Ass.’

‘Don’t be like that, blossom.’

‘Jerk.’

‘Ah, pookie.’

‘Keep it up. You have to sleep sometime.’

‘Ooh, kitten’s got claws.’

‘Clinton Francis Barton, you do know I used to work for SHIELD, too, right?’

He smirked as she started to rant. _I got full named. Bonus points_.

‘… I could kill you in very creative ways, and unlike my bestie, I’ll make sure it’s not enjoyable.’

‘Sweetheart, I’m so hurt.’

‘Oh, you will be. Black and blue.’ She was trying to sound angry, but laughter kept bubbling up.

‘Hmm, sounds like my kind of fun. But not over the phone, darling.’

Silence settled between them for a few moments, soft and warm. Bonds reaffirmed. His family safe. He’d be home as soon as he could slip away for a few weeks. _Nothing much more to say right now_.

A soft sigh echoed down the line. ‘Did you eat yet?’

Clint nodded, then opened his mouth to answer.

‘No, of course you did. JARIVS makes sure to keep you all fed. Did you sleep yet? Last I heard, he wasn't tranq-ing you all and having the bots put you to bed.’

Clint snorted. _Better not give him any ideas. He’d do it in a heartbeat if he thought it would get us to take better care of ourselves_. ‘Yeah, not yet.’

‘Well, then. You’d better be off to sleep before I call the illustrious Mr J and start making suggestions.’ The shared laughter softened the inevitable goodbye.

‘I love you.’

‘Love you, too.’

‘Good night, my little peach.’

‘Sweet dreams, birdbrain.’ A muted click signaled that the call had been disconnected.

Clint chuckled and tucked the phone into his utility belt slung over a nearby hook on the wall. He wriggled a little to settle lower in the giant bean bag chair and tugged the quilt up over his shoulders. Sleep pulled him under with the sound of her laughter still echoing in his ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The theme of my life the last couple of months has been: ‘thank you for all your work on that extra thing I had you do last minute, but I’ve decided to do something completely different now, so if you could get started right away that would be great’
> 
> My life kind of exploded last night due to my kiddo’s poor life choices, compounded by the equally poor choices of other parents. (I say kiddo, but I guess that doesn’t really apply at 19 years old.) The fool ingested something when out with friends and was dropped off at our door completely naked while half out of his mind. Police were called and the night (early morning) ended with mandatory arrest. I am just heartsick right now. And scared for what’s going to happen to my family.
> 
> I am still working on _A Path Less Traveled_ , but with everything currently going on, I can't promise that there won't be another long break between updates. Thank you for your understanding.


	4. 4. Monsters Under My Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loptr has a nightmare.
> 
> Takes place sometime after Chapter 17 of _Breeding Chaos_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ll pin down exactly where this falls in the story once Chapter 17 of _Breeding Chaos_ stops fighting me. The plot bunnies are no help right now. They’ve split into factions and aren’t agreeing on anything. I’m going to have to go back to my outline to see how far I’ve veered off course and if I’m looking at edits, adjusting the outline, or just extra writing to wrap up a few tangents and get back on course.

She should have listened to Móðir. Faðir’s orb, his anchor to this side of the veil, had cracked. Faðir wasn’t coming back and it was all her fault.

Pinpricks walked across her back, digging in as she continued to rock on the branch. Soft teal and charcoal fur rubbed over her arms and face as a weight settled into Loptr’s lap. But nothing could be heavier than the weight crushing her chest.

‘ **Find the girl! Burn her out of you have to!** ’

Smoke pressed over her nose and mouth as she threw herself back, away from the voices. Sharp, uneven edges dug into her back as she pressed back. _Not here. Not here. No. No! NO!_ Metallic clinks. Chainmail. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Horses charging. Ringing echoes. Steel against steel. _He found us! The Einherjar! Móðir!_

Loptr sprang up, limbs uncoiling. A thrust of her tail, crushed stone, grasping claws, pounding feet, slick scales, thick fur, she flew through the dark tunnel, undulating with the current. _Móðir doesn’t like the dark. Have to find _Móðir_. Móðir where are you?!_

Rug under her feet, snagged talons. Splinters in her shoulder, hip. Feline screech of warning. The door gave way and she tumbled fins over feet into Móðir’s workroom.

‘ **What the hell are you doing here? Stand down, damn you!** ’

‘ **Mommy, what’s that?!** ’

‘ **Monster!** ’

‘ **Abomination**.’

‘ **Kill the creature**.’

Bellowing roars pushed back the guards with their enchanted nets and spears. Blue ringed tentacles and poisoned claws struck out again and again, until she was free of the weight of _his_ hate. Back beneath the mountain. Bathed in starlight and celestial winds. Green and gold sparkles danced around them.

‘Trust me, tesoro,’ Móðir said, with that achingly soft, sad smile. Then she was alone again, _always alone_ , ribbons of gold light cutting her apart.

‘ **Tesoro! Lolo, wake up!** ’

‘ **Get back! She’s dangerous!** ’

‘ **So am I, asshole!** ’

Stars tumbled around her. Galaxies died and were reborn. A spinning comet, silver and red and blue, clipped her, knocked her away from the glowing door.

‘Touch her again and I will tear you apart.’

Never had cold fury been so welcomed. _Papa! That’s Papa’s voice! He’s here. Alive!_ Loptr rushed forward, pushing back the dark and the cold. There were eternities to play with the cosmos. There were only moments to hold her family.

Barbed talons ripped away her caul, dropping the shredded remains into the lashing cloud of chaos that enfolded her. Cords of green runes pulsed, twisted in the black miasma, winding through the writhing cloud, quickly twining over, under, and between, until slick limbs began to emerge. Sweet, oil and ozone scented air filled her lungs. Cool wind brushed over damp flesh and she briefly mourned the loss of scales and fur. _Home? Did I find it?_

Green and gold eyes blinked open to an exploding supernova. The light stabbed through her, ringing pointed ears, and turning her stomach. Half a dozen arms lashed out, shielding her eyes, pushing away the brightness, slashing weapons of ice and steel.

‘Lolo!’ Panic threaded through Papa’s voice under the barked command for attention.

Pupils narrowed to slits. All but two arms disappeared into wisps of ether. _The raw chaos–antimatter–has almost been absorbed_.

**Good girl. Remember, Papa is a bit more delicate than you or I.**

**Oh, bite me, princess.**

**Later, my flower.**

**Such an asshole.**

**But that’s what you love about me.**

**Yeah, yeah I do, snowflake. Love you both, so, so much. You’re my everything.**

_Loptr. I am Loptr_. She shook her head; one head, two arms, two legs, no wings or tails. Misty wisps floated around her bare skull. _That’s right. This form should have hair_. Goose bumps prickled her skin in the cool air. _And clothes_. A quick twist of her arm, and yards of living fabric burst through the gate runes inscribed beneath the skin. A soothing stroke along a silken edge softened the martial colors before it turned to wrap around her body, softly pulsing through a glittering rainbow.

‘Lolo?’ Papa called, again.  
  
Emerald eyes lifted from the fabric draped around her from chin to floor. Her smile faltered at the white knuckled hand clenched around Papa’s pale wrist. The dissipating wisps of chaos solidified into hissing serpents wreathed around her skull. Floating curls of fabric darkened and fell away from her arms. ‘Release him, saighdiúir, or die.’

‘I’m just trying to protect him from you.’

White cut across Loptr’s senses before a sarcastic snort hooked her attention. ‘Seriously? If you hadn’t attacked, my living room might still exist. And you complain about my lack of planning.’

Loptr spun in a slow circle, tuning out their argument as she took in the damage. Most of the furniture, what was still there ( _Bob is going to be pissed if the rest of the couch was dropped in his waters_ ), was scorched splinters and slagged metal. Debris dotted a path from the hallway toward the windows, bright from the rising sun shining through the glass and steel columns. _Oh, that was the glowing door_. She pressed a hand against the glass, flexing her fingers.

‘Young Miss, you did not reach the window,’ JARVIS rushed to reassure her.

‘Because the star-spangled nutcase threw his overdone frisbee at her,’ FRIDAY cut in. ‘Hope you’re not expecting to get that back anytime soon, brainiac,’ she sneered at Rogers. ‘At a guess, I’d say it’s spinning past the Horsehead Nebula right about now. Assuming it didn’t atomize on contact with an antimatter cloud, you sorry excuse–’

‘That’s enough, FRIDAY,’ Papa gently admonished her heart-sister.

There was a quickly smothered yelp and then footsteps approaching from behind. A calloused hand cupped her bare shoulder as she was gently pulled away from the window into a hug. Loptr snuggled into his warmth, tucking her head under his chin as the glow from Extremis faded. Papa’s hand moved from her shoulder to her head, and Loptr smothered a laugh as his entire body stiffened.

‘So, the venomous snakes aren’t an illusion,’ he commented casually. ‘Good to know.’ The serpents coiled playfully around his hand, tongues flickering, then his fingers were tangled in black curls. ‘Alrighty, then.’ He carefully extracted his fingers and patted her head a few times, before resuming the hug.

Loptr lost her hold on the chuckle. ‘Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. Brat.’ He squeezed her close, then leaned back and hooked a finger under her chin. Honey brown eyes searched green and gold. ‘You okay now?’ She nodded.

‘Bad dream?’ She shrugged and looked down. A warm hand cupped her chin, lifting her face until she looked up again. ‘I mean, if you wanted to redecorate, all you had to do was say something. Although, I’ll admit that couch wasn’t one of my better choices. But, in my defense, the supervillains usually trash my furniture before I have the chance to regret any unfortunate choices.’

‘I did warn you, Sir, that the reviews consistently stated that couch was not ideal for lounging.’

‘Whatever, J. Get your picks delivered. Bonus if they get here before lunch.’

Gentle fingers brushed against Loptr’s cheek until she offered a wobbly smile. ‘There’s my girl. Come on. This calls for coffee and bear claws.’

He tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow and led her past the spluttering halfling. Loptr leaned on her papa as they walked to the elevator. _Heading out or raiding the executive kitchen?_

‘Wait,’ Rogers called from behind them. ‘My shield?’

Loptr waved her free hand and the spinning disk streaked through the air right in front of him, slamming him back into the wall. Papa looked back at the groaning lump of super soldier. ‘He going to be okay?’

‘Mr Rogers is merely stunned.’ Another deep groan, as he pushed the glowing vibranium disk onto the floor. ‘Perhaps a little bruised.’

Papa snorted. ‘If you’re sure. Get him down to medical so Bruce can check him over.’

‘Don’t worry,’ FRIDAY chirped, as a trio of larger cleaning bots strapped a weakly struggling Rogers to a portable gurney. ‘Everything will be ship shape by the time you get back.’

Papa shook his head as the elevator doors closed. ‘Gonna have to let that idiot apologize soon so he stops the damned hovering. J?’

‘Sir?’

‘Disable his overrides for the penthouse. Actually, disable his overrides, period.’

‘Already done.’

‘Thanks, J.’

‘Ms Romanov is en route to medical with Dr Banner to ‘discuss that idiot’s conflict resolution methods’. Dr Banner’s eyes are more green than brown.’ There was a weighty pause as JARVIS considered the facts. ‘I find myself conflicted on whether or not I should feel concern and for which party.’

Loptr giggled into Papa’s shoulder. He patted her back as he shook his head. ‘Yeah, I don’t think either of us can give you an impartial opinion on that one, buddy. Just make sure they don’t trash the place, okay? The rest is at your discretion.’

‘As always, Sir.’

Loptr didn’t bother opening her eyes as Papa tugged her out of the elevator moments later. ‘Come on, bambina. Let’s blow some sh–tuff up. Then we’ll make hot chocolate and gossip while watching Disney and bundling up under fluffy blankets.’

She squeezed Papa from behind as he paused to unlock the lab. A smile tugged at her lips at the scene inside. Shining blue holograms floated over the work tables. Blast shields had already been pulled out of the corner. DUM-E and U each held a corner of a familiar pink box as they beeped and whistled at each other, disagreeing on whether the pastries should be put on the table or given directly to their creator. _Papa is safe. Móðir is free. Plans and preparations are slowly, but surely, falling into place. There so much left to do, but for right now_ …

‘Mayhem, malarkey, and mirth. I’m in.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real Life has my anxiety levels ramped to 7+/10 right now. Something is going to have to give soon, just not sure what that’s going to end up being.
> 
> My siblings and mom are getting me out of the house this weekend. Hopefully, they’ll have some ideas. At the least, I will have lots of hugs and tea.
> 
> Through it all, I’m making a point to remind myself that self care is important and emotional flailing is not the same thing as failure. And failure is just a step toward success. I’ve been reading a lot of affirmations and motivational quotes lately. Can you tell?


	5. 5. Flirtin’ With Disaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loptr’s bestest frenemy stops in for a chat. Natasha’s got a date. Clint is questioning his life choices.
> 
> This probably qualifies as pure crack. _I just really like twisting Clint’s brain. It’s so stretchy_. ;)
> 
> Takes place sometime after Chapter 17 of _Breeding Chaos_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been trying to fit this scene in for a few chapters now (it popped into my head almost fully formed when I was writing Chapter 4 of _Breeding Chaos_ ), but characters keep running off with the keyboard. I got tired of waiting and needed a little cheering up, so… Enjoy!
> 
> Title song: _Flirtin’ With Disaster_ by Molly Hatchet

The screen had just winked out after their latest meeting with Coulson to discuss the upcoming invasion and how to handle various world leaders when Loptr laughed and bounced to her feet. Head tilted to the side, eyes closed as if concentrating, faint shadows rippled under her skin for three heartbeats. Then she laughed again and opened eyes the color spring leaves.

‘Hiya, Vicci,’ Loptr said with a sly look over her shoulder. She waved away the Widow’s silent inquiry and walked around the couch as if to greet a new arrival.

The Avengers all looked at each other. A round of head shaking indicated no one else had an idea who or what Loptr was talking to in the empty space between the living room and balcony. Rogers squinted tri-colored eyes. He’d gotten better at maintaining his glamor, but not while consciously using his new abilities. After a moment, super soldier wrinkled his nose and shrugged. Apparently his new mojo wasn’t detecting anything out of place, just like JARVIS’ passive sensors.

‘Enjoying yourself? Testing out the new model before you try another form of felonious peeping?’

‘J, deep scan,’ Tony barked.

‘No need,’ came Loptr’s airy declaration as a small shower of green sparks erupted in midair. She waved a hand, nails now dark purple, metallic symbols clustered like constellations from base to tip. ‘It’s under control.’

Everyone exchanged glances, but at Bruce’s head shake they all stayed by the couches. Loptr had proven she could more than handle herself when properly focused. Chaos gods were rather resilient if not killed outright, sometimes even when others thought they were dead, as evidenced by Loptr’s Móðir on multiple occasions.

Arcane symbols lit up the floor, the circle projected by Loptr’s eager partner in crime, FRIDAY. The sparks intensified for a moment, spinning off a central point above the center of the binding circle. FRIDAY giggled as large black beetle tumbled out to bounce on the low carpet. ‘Got you,’ she crowed.

The faintest whir of straining gears came from the beetle as it kicked its legs and used its wing casings to flip back over. Tony hopped over the back of the couch to get a closer look, much to Rhodey’s amusement. The beetle dove for the edge of the circle and let out a scream when it was repelled. Tony flinched as he recognized the metallic screech. ‘Doom?!’

Loptr nodded. ‘It’s been a few weeks since our last chat. He worries.’

Tony’s hands lifted to clutch his hair. ‘Doom?!’ he repeated while his brain rabbited in panicked circles. _Oh Tesla, no! Bad, bad, bad. Very bad_.

Loptr shot him a concerned look from where she was crouched in front of the circle. ‘You _said_ : no to Hammer, but everything else was workable.’

Bruce covered his mouth as he coughed, eyes crinkled despite their green tint. Rhodey was chewing on his lip, amused and concerned, as he came up and wrapped an arm around Tony's shoulders, forcing him to let go of his glorious chestnut locks. _I’m going to go gray, then my hair will fall out. I’m going to end up looking like Senator Palpatine gone Darth Sidious_.

‘So you decide on a super villain with world domination plots?!’ Tony’s mouth was running without higher input and he was pretty sure his head was going to explode any moment now. _Yup. Definitely never making Dad of the Year. Oh, Archimedes. Loki, get your beautiful ass here faster. Our daughter has a thing for super villains. Super villains!_

Clint sniggered behind Tony. ‘The Avengers,’ he laughed, sotto voce, ‘halfway house for recovering super villains.’

It warmed the cold cockles of Tony's heart when he heard his dear friend Natasha smack the archer. _I'll have J order her more chocolates. Maybe more vodka_.

‘Eh, world domination is more of a side gig. Besides, with his OCD tendencies, guarantee the average citizen would see a distinct improvement in their quality of living. Minions, not so much, but risk-reward ratios means there’s never a shortage of lemming-types.’ She waved her left hand in a complicated gesture. Tony's eyes narrowed as a few of the symbols slid off her nails to merge with the glowing circle containing the spybot.

‘Besides, he’s one of the few beings who has never tried to kill me just because of my family.’ Everyone in the room winced behind her back, even the spies. ‘Sure, we’ve had a few spats, but all bestest frenemies do sometimes.’ Loptr tapped the edge of the circle, then stood.

Several of the symbols switched places or turned. Moments later, a projection of Dr Doom floated above the spybot. ‘Miss Loptr is as wise as she is beautiful,’ Doom’s image intoned solemnly as it bowed, which looked kind of odd since the image faded out just below his knees.

‘Thanks, Vicci.’

The lights in his mask narrowed as he straightened. ‘Doom thinks one day she might even make a suitable queen _if_ she were to learn some decorum.’

‘Oh, no. Nope.’ Tony barely popped the ‘p’ before rounding to point at Loptr. ‘No super villain boyfriends, or girlfriends. BFF is bad enough. I am _not_ explaining to my future grandchildren why they don’t get to keep the Hope Diamond as a paper weight.’

Doom chuckled. ‘While Havoc is a most worthy friend and adversary, Doom is courting another.’ The hood bobbed as Doom gave Tony a one-over. _So glad the mask hides the leer. This is sufficiently creepy_ without _actually seeing his face_. ‘Were it not for your lady’s imminent arrival, Doom might be persuaded to… adjust Doom’s current focus.’

‘Vicci, _no_. Bad super villain! You’re only allowed to court one Avenger at a time. I like my Aunt Bitsy and if you break her heart I’ll be very cross with you.’

‘Bitsy,’ Clint snickered in the background.

‘Shut it, Uncle Shutnik,’ Natasha hissed.

Doom stiffened. ‘Pardon? Doom is unclear as to what the young lady could possibly be referring.’

Loptr snorted. ‘Okay, the getup is fantastic, style points and everything–’ Tony squawked in protest. ‘–but it’s not like you live in it. Or speak in the third person all the time. Take her to Mari Vanna for your next date. She’ll love it.’

The eye slits went dark in Doom’s mask as he closed his eyes. _Obviously praying for patience. And now I'm empathizing with a super villain. Next thing you know we'll be forming a support group and knitting club._ Tony shuddered. _Maybe not. Some things are just too weird, even for me, to contemplate_.

‘Young lady, you are a menace.’ Doom turned slightly to face a completely neutral Black Widow. ‘In Doom’s defense, Doom was not aware of your alternate identity before our date. Doom considers you to be a delightful dinner companion and hopes to hear from you again soon.’

Clint was looking a bit green. ‘Delightful?’

There was a metallic huff as Doom glanced at Loptr. She shrugged and nodded, hands tucked in her pockets. Tony coughed into his fist. Small tremors from Rhodey meant he was also fighting not to laugh. _Oooh, Auntie Bitsy is gonna make you pay for that, Birdbrain_.

‘Yes.’ Doom crossed his arms as he looked between Clint and Natasha. ‘Doom does not feel that Doom is weakened by associating with formidable persons, no matter their gender. In fact, Doom seeks a worthy queen with which to share Doom’s throne. Doom finds Ms Natalia to be both delightful _and_ regal.’

He bowed formally and a black and emerald green orchid appeared outside the circle, floating in front of his extended hand. As soon as Natasha touched the flower, Doom disappeared, followed by a small pop. Moments later, a tiny plume of smoke puffed out of the collapsed beetle. _Guess the Q &A session is over. How the hell did he get in? Let alone past the wards? What lovely loophole did he manage to exploit?_

‘You went on a date with Victor von Doom?’ Loptr was eyeing Clint’s face as he spun to face Natasha. Tony winced and tapped out a quick message to JARVIS. _That mix of gray and purple cannot be healthy for him_. Vitals scrolled across his watch screen: within safe parameters, blood pressure more than a bit elevated.

‘You’re acting like I knowingly associated with a super villain.’ Widow raised a sardonic red eyebrow. ‘I thought he was just a black market arms dealer, maybe a double agent.’

‘You were at a restaurant. Where you shared a meal. With your date. Dr. Doom.’ Clint jabbed a finger in the air to emphasize every excessive period.

‘He’s… different when he discards the persona.’ She smirked. ‘And he really knows how to show a girl a good time.’

Steve gasped. ‘You had _sex_ with him?’

Loptr and Natasha gave Steve identical looks of supreme disgust. Clint and Tony tried their best not to look overly interested in the answer to that question. Bruce, Rhodey, and Sam just shook their heads. There might have been a facepalm or two.

The girls exchanged a look before Loptr hit low and fast. Metaphorically, thankfully. ‘This from Mr 'Only-I'm-Allowed-To-Keep-Secrets'. Like you have moral high ground on anyone right now.’

Steve growled. ‘I messed up. I admitted it. I paid for my mistakes by relinquishing command. And I'll apologize to your father as soon as he's willing to hear it. But I don't owe you anything. I don't have any secrets left.’

The containment circle shattered into glowing dust that quickly dissipated as Loptr stepped through it, crushing the beetle under her bare foot on her way to Steve. A sad whine slipped out before Tony could suppress it. _That was a new model, damnit. If she wasn't having a go at Rogers, I'd say she did that on purpose_.

'Oh, I think that you'll find that you do. Open your eye, boy. Ere you find you've danced off the cliff, _Fool_.'

'What are you talking about?' Rogers' golden skin paled. His knuckles went white as red began creeping up his neck. Everyone spread out around the two combatants, ready to pull them apart if either of them got physical.

'Tell me, Steven Grant Rogers, what do the trees sing to you in your dreams? What's behind the Shadow under their leaves?'

'How–?'

'Who do you think has been waking you up before you rip holes through the Veil? Who do you think has been keeping him _out_?'

‘That’s not–’

Loptr's clawed hand slashed through the air as she stepped closer to Rogers. 'Oh? Is there some other version of events you'd like to spin for me? A pretty tale where all the good little boys live happy and free from their troubles? If you really believe that, you need to _open your eye_.'

The Avengers exchanged looks around the pair. Tony shook his head. ‘Better now, than later,’ he mouthed. Clint and Natasha grimaced, but nodded. Tony winced as Nat checked the charge on her Widow Bites. _Okay, baby girl. Hold it together. Remember the rules of engagement. Fish are friends, not food. Not helping, brain_.

Rogers backed up a step for every slow swaying step Loptr took. ‘No. Stop putting words in my mouth. I'm not–’

'You're still lying, to yourself and everyone else. Steven Grant Rogers, open your eye!'

Rogers swayed as if Loptr's hissed words had the force of a gale behind them. His mouth opened and closed a few times, strangled sounds coming from his throat as his glamor flickered rapidly. Three seconds later, he abruptly spun on his heel and ran out of the room on silent feet, fading from sight as he raced for the stairs. Sam hesitated, but chased after Rogers as soon as Bruce and Clint shooed him off.

Tony raised an eyebrow at Loptr. _Looks like I really need to talk to Rogers–Steve–whatever. He hasn't apologized yet, so I don't have to play nice. Just… not right now. Soon. Before Loki gets here. Promise_.

‘What?!’ Loptr crossed her arms, defiance written in every line as she turned to face them. ‘I didn’t punch him. I followed your _rules_.’

‘Keep it up, young lady, and you’ll be joining him and Dr Samson in group therapy.’ Loptr whined at the back of her throat. Tony's fingers twitched as the higher tones echoed in his ears, but he kept the grimace off his face.

‘On that note,' Natasha announced, 'I have a call to make.’ She brushed the black orchid against her cheek as she turned to leave.

‘Wait! You’re going on another date, _knowing_ he’s Dr Doom?’ Clint looked lost and bewildered. It wasn’t his best look.

Buzzing on his wrist alerted Tony to a private message from JARVIS. He flicked his eyes down to his watch. Apparently, FRIDAY had just ordered a gala's worth of ice cream and toppings to be delivered with all possible spend. _Smart girl_.

‘How could I, in good conscience, choose to inflict my life, and enemies, on an average person, or a hero? At least this one can take care of himself. He’s an amazing shot and can keep up with me in a fight.’ Natasha flipped her hair over her shoulder as she opened the door to the stairs. ‘If I become queen, maybe I’ll inflict him on my enemies.’

‘Not funny, Nat.’ Natasha just waved as she skipped over the first step. ‘I’m telling Laura!’ Her laughter floated back up the stairs to mock Clint.

He huffed and crossed his arms, eyes boring holes through the closing steel door. ‘Bruce if you start dating Amora, I will _never_ forgive you.’

Bruce jumped back as if distancing himself from the very suggestion. ‘What?! Why would you even think that, let alone _say_ it?’

‘Well, it’s not like she’d date _Sam_ , or Rhodes. No offense.’

‘Some taken.’ Although, Rhodey's sneer seemed more amused than affronted.

Clint waved him off. ‘She's barely even seen you guys. Steve is too apple pie–'

'What does that even _mean_?' Bruce complained.

'–and she hates Thor, even if she still wants to hit that… in every sense. Even Doom doesn’t want to throw down with Tony’s _lady_ love–which is, frankly terrifying, if you think about it, so I won't. That leaves you,' Clint concluded triumphantly.

Bruce opened and closed his mouth a few times before flopping onto the couch, head almost between his knees as he dug his fingers through the curls. ‘Punjab is nice this time of year, really.’

Tony tapped his watch and started flipping through articles from JARVIS. He paused at a blurry photo with a familiar leaping silhouette. ‘Is she talking about the shoot out in Chinatown that Coulson told us not to worry about? _That’s_ her idea of a fun date?’

‘You should have seen her in Budapest. Laughed like a loon.’ Clint rubbed both hands over his face. ‘Well, I’m off to tell my kind-of-wife that her best gal is dating bad news. Wish me luck.’

Loptr nodded. ‘Good luck. Ice cream and toppings in the common room in fifty minutes.’

‘Bless you, my child.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RL is still has me rather stressed out, but I’m finally making plans and moving forward, so we’ll see how it all shakes out.
> 
> My apologies for not responding to comments the last few weeks, months. _Damn_. I’ll be catch up this week. Thank you for your understanding and for sticking with me.


	6. 6. Momma Said There’ll Be Days Like This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quick interlude. Loptr’s conversation with Sleipnir & Loki. Happens while she’s passed out in Chapter 16 of _Breeding Chaos_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Children are the anchors that hold a mother to life.”  
> ~ Sophocles
> 
> I was sorting through lose threads that need tying off and this snippet came out. Since the main story has already moved past this bit, I decided to you needed another extra.
> 
> Title Song: _Mama Said_ by The Shirelles

Hel was spinning and laughing, showing off her new dress, oblivious to Vali’s snarls. Shadows twisted in the corners as his features elongated and sprouted wet, blood-splattered fur, leaving a ravenous wolf in place of a loving brother. Fate’s Trickster raced down the stairs, armor ringing in the cavernous hall, recklessly leaping over dozens of steps. But the stairs stretched beneath their bare feet, a lengthening ribbon of despair as they watched Hel smile far below even as gore-drenched fangs shredded her veil. A heavy weight slammed into their knees and they tumbled sideways, bare skin scrapping over jagged rocks. Frozen tears carved rivers through their cheeks. Now the flowers would wilt, and Hel’s crimson shadow would splash across golden walls. But, no, they had to try. No parent would–could, should–stand by and watch their child be devoured.

They reached for their little girl, trying to pulling the whirling dervish into the safety of their arms. Cruel fingers clawed at their shoulder, pulling them away from a screaming Hel. Terrified screams echoed. Blood red light cut through the thin trees to stab deep their eyes into blindness. They twisted free of their tormentors. Dirt and blankets slid beneath their feet. Air whooshed out of heaving lungs as the trickster’s back slammed into a tree.

They were supposed to be alone on this mountain, just Sleipnir and his nameless Móðir. Days away from any towns and high enough to be almost out of the tree line, no one could have just chanced upon their camp.

“Shh, shh. Sorry, sorry. You were dreaming. It was just a dream. You’re alright. You’re safe. I come in peace.”

Sleipnir’s amused snort was, by far, more reassuring than the unknown babbler. The trickster dismissed the long knives and spiked vambraces. If Sleipnir saw humor in their situation, then this stranger was no immediate danger _. Always time enough to kill them later, if need be_.

They sneered at the slender backlit figure even as they blinked away the sun spots. “Safe enough for uninvited guests to ambush us in our sleep.”

“Móðir,” a deep voice admonished. “Don’t be rude. She is here to parley.” A young man with gray hair and swarthy skin crouched to the right of the kneeling green-eyed girl. One large hand ruffled her short black curls before he rested both elbows on thick, leather-clad thighs and smirked at their guest.

The girl shoved at Sleipnir’s arm and almost pushed herself over. He laughed and stood. Stepping back to give them space, his pale eyes watched everything, gentle even in vigilance. Fate’s trickster scrambled up. Even creaky with disuse and deepened by age, they would know that laugh anywhere.

“How?” Pale fingers trembled as they reached out to grip the hands of their eldest son. “Sleipnir.”

Laughter danced in his eyes as Sleipnir pulled his Móðir into a tight hug. “Ay. This young one released me from Odin’s chain. We owe her a great debt, though she denies it as heroes are wont to do.”

The trickster twisted to study the girl, suspicion warring with gratitude. They frowned when the morning sun shimmered oddly over her t-shirt and jeans. The grass went through her knees instead of bending beneath a physical form. Astral projection or something more sinister? Good fortune and kind hearts rarely walk the same path as me.

“The binding was meant to last until the coming of Ragnarök,” they accused.

The girl simply laughed and stood to offer them a bow elegant enough to make any etiquette tutor proud. “At your service,” she declared. “But I admit, it’s not a name I usually go by.” A exaggerated wink. “Makes people nervous for some reason.”

Sleipnir squeezed his Móðir in warning before turning to offer his own courtesies. “We are most pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Ragnarök. Thank you for removing that cursed bridle. We are in your debt.”

Sadness tinged her smile as the girl stepped back. “As I said when I arrived, you owe me nothing, King of Horses. I will not leave either of you vulnerable as our interests align.” Pink lips twisted into a sharp smirk. “We’re rather hoping you’ll consider defending this realm if we can convince you to accept asylum here. It’s all quite selfish, I can assure you.”

Sunlight caught on the girl’s waving arms. Runes and sigils faded into sight from elbow to palm. Familiarity scratched at the trickster’s mind as they read the spellwork: protection, good fortune, concealment. Marks given to a beloved child.

Her left arm lifted to push back black curls and light glittered around the edges of a sigil burned into her wrist: Chaos manifested _. It’s_ her _. The one who freed me from the Dreaming_.

Sleipnir looked down as tension flooded his Móðir’s body. Thick fingers tapped a question against their ribs; out of sight from their benefactor.

The girl flushed and shoved her left hand into a back pocket. Then spun halfway around to point southeast with her right. “I can’t stay long, but I’ve made arrangements for you to stay at a cabin on the other side of this mountain. It’s fully stocked with extra supplies and has been reserved for the rest of summer.”

Fate’s trickster shivered and tapped out a negative against Sleipnir’s waist. It made no sense for her to release them both if she meant them harm. They owed her a frightening debt, but they couldn’t afford to turn away shelter or assistance in this foreign place.

Sleipnir thanked their mysterious benefactor while the trickster’s mind tried to fit this new knowledge into their understanding of the universe. _Such a good boy_.

“Rest. Eat. Finish healing. Papa is already making arrangements for the children’s safe arrival. They’ll be here before the next new moon, but we’re not the only ones watching, so you’ll need to lay low. You’re our ace in the hole, if things go wrong with the retrieval.”

“Why should we wait and risk strangers claiming my siblings? Even if Móðir’s face is known, I am more than capable of protecting them and taking them to safety.”

Moisture or sunlight sparkled in the corner of her eyes. “If it was just some random jerk or out-of-towner, I’d agree. But some very powerful players have manipulated key people in our government into doing their dirty work. I swear by Norns, I only want to protect your siblings. Thor is bound by his heart and his promise to Angrboða. We are his shieldbrothers and we will do all within our power to assist him in keeping you safe.”

Sleipnir grunted. “That is a grave vow,” he warned. “Why should the end of all things care for the lives of three unknown youngsters? Uncle is known for choosing blackguards as companions.”

Sharp teeth flashed in the sunlight. “Now that would be telling.” She pursed her lips briefly, then smiled wide again. “I can say that next time they show their faces to him, Thor will renounce Lady Sif and the Warriors Three for their crimes. He has viewed his life through the lens of those not obligated to a tyrant and he wishes to make changes. Mend fences as it were. Perhaps he will become a Friggason, too.” She chuckled and turned her head to stare down the mountain. “But I’m sure actions speak louder than tales of an unlikely bard.”

She snapped her fingers and a small glass orb dropped to the ground at her bare feet. “In case you need to call. FRIDAY will connect you to whomever you wish to speak or she’ll be happy to answer questions and pass on messages.”

Sleipnir released his Móðir and offered a formal bow to the fading girl. The trickster could clearly see trees through the girl now. Except her eyes. Those remained bright, and sharp as the knives that tickled at the edges of their hands. “We thank you, Ragnarök, for your aid. Your generous heart is a credit to your family.”

“You’d best get moving before Heimdall’s eye strays this way,” she warned. “You’ve not been as subtle as you think.” That mocking smile was the last thing to fade.

“What a contradictory little bitch.”

“Yes, Móðir. I like her, too.”

“No. I mean yes. I mean–” The trickster huffed as Sleipnir crouched to study the orb. “She may be the one who woke me from the king’s dreaming curse.”

They nodded at their son’s sharp look. “There is far more to her than meets the eye. She is turning worlds over to save our family and I do not think that it is because we have been foretold as her harbingers of doom.”

“Asgard has always placed too much weight on the broken mumbling of their seers,” Sleipnir sneered. “Fate and destiny are _not_ immutable. The end of the world doesn’t have to be the death of it.” He wrapped the orb in a square of embroidered silk, stuffed it in a leather pouch, then secured it near the bottom their saddlebags. _Healthy paranoia for a survivor of Asgard, where even a helping hand may push you to your death_.

The trickster was lifted to their feet by their smiling son. “Come, now. The sun waits for no man or beast.”

He began breaking down their small camp, shaking out and folding their bedrolls. Tsking at muddy footprints.

The trickster pressed a steadying hand against the nearest evergreen. The texture of rough bark was grounding as they swayed under the weight of worry and speculation. Pieces reshuffled on their mental tafl board, values reassigned, potential allies and troops added and subtracted. Their past may be a quagmire of empty rooms in a castle behind a ring of thorns, but they knew sure as they drew breath: war was flying toward the Nine Realms on swift, silent wings. They and theirs would be ready to meet the interlopers, and damn any to the darkest pits of Hel who tried to stop them.

“Móðir.” Exasperation colored the warrior’s voice as he tapped their shoulder. “We were promised warm beds and food. Let’s leave some of the heavy thinking until after breakfast, hmm? Always easier to think when your stomach’s not clawing at your backbone.”


End file.
